This Desperate Youth
by Leilako
Summary: The progression of Lucy and Tumnus' relationship during her reign. Rated for later chapters, may go up in the future. TumnusLucy, TumnusOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney and C.S. Lewis and probably some other's too. Well, not me, is the point. Only the story is mine. Also, the excerpted text below is not mine, although I could not find the author. If it is yours, please let me know and I will credit you/remove it (if you'd like).

Author's Note: So, a few problems I had with this. First, I know that a lot of people have problems with sexuality existing in Narnia. Tough. There is sex, or else there wouldn't be people native to the land. Secondly, I don't know if there will be any sex between Lucy and Tumnus...I haven't exactly figured out the mechanics of that. Third, C.S. Lewis didn't pay a lot of attention to distances in Narnia. Here's an excerpt from a post I found on Google that sums up the problem:

_"It took Aslan traveling as fast as a racehorse at top speed a couple hours to make the journey from the Stone Table to Jadis castle (100 miles?), yet the children with the Beavers were able to walk most of this distance in a day and a quarter, with plenty of rest (a fast walking speed is about 4 miles per hour). The distance from the Beavers dam to the White Witches home couldn't have been more then five miles or Edmund couldn't of walked this distance in the cold conditions as discribed in LWW without giving up or freezing to death."_

So I just made it up mostly.

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**This Desperate Youth**

The first time Lucy kissed Tumnus she was 14 years old. It was during a tour for the Grand Vizier of Calormen, in one of the ornamental gardens at Caer Paravel. Lucy fell back to the end of the little procession wending its way through the castle and Tumnus, ever attentive to her prescense,excused himself from the chattering Mouse he was escorting and came to her side.

"Your Majesty appears to have been left behind," he said as he fell into step beside her. She nodded noncomittally and took his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder. They walked along the shaded paths of the garden, passing clumps of exotic flowers mixed in with common herbs. An enticing mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar, thought Lucy, and realized that she meant not only the garden, but the whole situation. Since she had come to Narnia, all those years ago, she had often held the arm of dear Mr. Tumnus and walked along the beach or in the forest. But today was different.

It had begun the week before, when, in preparation for the arrival of the Grand Vizier, Susan had commissioned new state clothes for Edmund, who had sprung up nearly half a foot over the winter. In the course of the fittings, the modiste mentioned that the fitted sleeve and empress bustline were sweeping courts throughout the Lone Islands and Susan, realizing that there wasn't enough time to have an entire wardrobe made up before the following Tuesday, settled for having several of Lucy's and her gowns altered.

When the modiste began the alterations on Lucy's gowns, however, she and Susan were scandalized to discover that Lucy had quite outgrown the bodices of most of her dresses without mentioning it to anyone.

"Yes, well, I thought they were feeling a little tight across the chest," she murmured when Susan confronted her about it. Proper undergarments were commissioned immediately, as were two new court gowns, three morning dresses, a ball gown, a walking dress, and a riding habit. Another seamstress and a small flotilla of Talking Mice, with their small, clever hands, were brought in to rush the new clothes to completion, as well as to alter any existing garments. Susan refused to speak to Lucy, except to give her long, angry speeches about nearly disgracing the entire family in front of the whole court, which suited Lucy just fine because she had worries of her own to consider.

It had not escaped her attention that her body was developing. In a realm like Narnia, were more than half the population was comprised of Animals, the facts of life were inescapable. Animals, unlike humans, were fairly open about sex and nudity, and although most of their reproductive organs were conveniently covered by fur, secondary organs were rarely accorded such modesty. Centaur women, for instance, went bare-breasted all the time, except at state functions, and nymphs and water sprites never wore clothes. But it wasn't just her breasts that were developing. For some weeks now she had begun to see things in a different light.

She watched a dryad smile coyly at Peter, saw him flirt back and understood for the first time the purpose of their actions. She saw a stable boy sneak a kiss with one of the kitchen maids, saw the girl's face flush with delight and surprise and something else and yearned to feel it herself, to know what the unnamed emotion on both their faces was. The pivotal moment came the Thursday before the minister was to arrive, when a particularly fierce storm had blown through the Great Forest. Lucy was on a rather idle search for fragrant herbs to plant in the kitchen garden when she came upon Mr. Tumnus helping to clear a snarl of trees that had fallen across the path.

He was working with a Water Rat, a few of the Badgers and an an assortment of fauns who were constantly being distracted by a group of wood nymphs lingering at the edge of the tree line. Someone was playing a pan pipe and the tone was one of merriment, a rejoicing at what was surely the last gasp of winter as spring moved in. Half of an enormous tree was being hewn apart into manageable chunks and pulled off the path. Mr. Tumnus was carrying logs to stack on the side of the path and between the heat of the sun and the extent of his physical exertions there was a sheen of sweat covering the muscles of his chest, arms, and back. Watching him this way, laughing and flirting with the nymphs and completely unaware of her felt new and intimate to Lucy. She realized suddenly that he wasn't wearing a scarf and also that she had never before seen him without one.

She would have liked to go on watching him, but he suddenly turned his head toward her, catching the sun in his golden hair, and smiled. Her breath caught in her chest and she felt strangely warm all over and even as her lips began to turn up in an answering smile she thought, Beautiful. She had ridden up to them, then, and offered her horse to help haul away the remainder of the trunk. While Mr. Beaver and one of the more serious minded Fauns bickered good naturedly over the best way to hitch the horse to the tree, Mr. Tumnus trotted up to Lucy with his arms still full of logs.

"Good morning, you majesty," he said with another brilliant smile. His eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed from carrying logs and stripping branches for the better part of four hours and Lucy thought he had never looked so very Faun-like as he did then, primal and robust and something else, something else that called up in her mind the image of the stable boy and the kitchen maid. Lucy suddenly realized she had been staring for some moments and managed a half-hearted smile.

"I am sorry, Mr. Tumnus, my mind was wandering. A good morning to you, and a very fine morning it is. You look well," she finished abruptly. Tumnus looked confused for a moment before he gave a little laugh and turned the conversation to another topic. Lucy could remember little of what they spoke of until suddenly one of the Fauns was leading her horse towards her and everyone began making their goodbyes. Mr. Tumnus walked a little ways with her before helping her onto her horse. She was very aware of his hands on her waist, a fleeting touch on her thigh and calf that seemed to burn through the fabric of her riding dress. Her heart was pumping strangely in her chest and Mr. Tumnus' face was passing in and out of focus.

"Lucy, you looked flushed! Are you quite alright?" he asked worriedly, abandoning his formality out of earshot of the others. He grasped one of her hands anxiously but she pulled it back hastily, grabbing hold of the reins to cover her reaction.

"I am fine, dear Mr. Tumnus. Only I'm afraid it's the sun. It's very bright today, isn't it?" He looked at her strangely.

"Perhaps you'd better return to the palace. I shall pass on your regards to the Beavers."

"What? Oh...yes. Regards. I think I shall go back...I feel as though I should like to lie down. Shall we see you on Tuesday, Mr. Tumnus?" He nodded his reply, trying to fathom what was behind her strangely shy, almost formal behaviour. He kept staring down the road even after she had rounded the bend out of sight and it was a long moment before he shook his head and turned back to help his comrades.

Now, as they wended their way deeper into the garden, Tumnus wondered if he had offended dear Lucy in some way; a thought that so upset him he quite lost track of their surroundings, until, suddenly, they were at an offshoot of the Great River. Lucy pulled away from Tumnus and stopped on the edge of the bank, eyes closed, and took in a deep breath. The palace proper was out of sight behind them and the beginnings of the Great Forest loomed before them. It was a heady mix of the comfortable and the unknown. Something about it made Lucy feel strong and alive and daring, and when Mr. Tumnus moved to stand next to her she turned impulsively and, pressed her lips to his.

It was a soft, glancing thing, hardly worthy of the breath it took to say "kiss," but suddenly all her courage fled her and she looked at him with big, apprehensive eyes, holding her breath against the pressure in her chest. And it seemed to her that all of existence had been leading up to this moment, this aftermath, and now was the time when the balance would be weighed and the whole enterprise marked a profit or a loss.

Tumnus, for his part, was stunned. He lifted a hand to his lips and stared at Lucy for a long moment. The air between them turned awkward and Lucy began to feel she ought to say something. She opened her mouth and closed it again as he laid his hand against her cheek. She raised her eyes to his face and a tingling ran through her body where he touched her.

"Lucy," and her name sounded strange and wonderful on his lips, sounded unlike it had ever sounded before, a mixture of longing and regret. He pulled her against him and ran his hands through her long, wavy hair. His body trembled and she felt his head shake in a violent negative, his hands smoothing rapidly through her hair. At last he tilted her head back and smiled at her. With a little crooked smile he took her head in both hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"My dear, dear Lu-" he began, but she twisted away violently and stood with her back to him, hands clenched into fists and straight at her sides.

"Lucy?" He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned toward him.

"I'll always just be "dear Lucy" to you, won't I, Tumnus?" she asked quietly. She shook her head and a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, a solitary harbinger of the flood ahead. He began to say something--he knew not what--but she turned in a whirl of skirts and hair and ran back up the path towards the castle, leaving him alone with the trees and sky and water.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Wow! I was overwhelmed by the number of reviews I got. I really cannot say how touched I was. To everyone who reviewed: thank you so much, you have no idea how much your reviews meant to me. I actually rushed this chapter because of the response, which is why it's so short. Sorry for that, but I wasn't sure how long it would take to get the next part done, so I went ahead and posted this. Thank you all again. Seriously, reading some of those reviews, I got a bit teary. Thanks for the support! Thank you, thank you!

In this chapter we meet Nerise. Hehe. Please tell me what you think of her.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the story and any original characters.

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Tumnus slipped into the palace through the kitchen garden door to find the palace in a sort of organized chaos. Most of the party had disappeared to their respective chambers to change before dinner and the palace servants were rushing about with pressing cloths, shoe polish, tablecloths, plates, and bits of ribbon. Great bouts of steam issued from various doors and the clatter of dishes and carts echoed and re-echoed throughout the labyrinthine corridors. Tumnus trotted through the halls, making for the back stairs up to the receiving hall. He cut through the great kitchen and nearly ran into Susan who was rushing around in a highly frenzied, quite unladylike, state.

"Oh, dear. No, Sally! I don't care if the Tarkheena does need a basin of hot rose water, that soup has got to be on the table in fifteen minutes! Oh! Tumnus, thank goodness," Susan said, sparing him a rather harried smile. "Now, I've had something made up for you to wear tonight," she stopped at the alarmed look on his face. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, had you planned to wear something else? No? Well, then, I've had it laid out for you in your usual room. It's in the new Calormene style," she said with a gleam in her eye and a glittering smile on her lips. "I'll send Peter's valet up with you and we'll see you down for dinner in ten minutes."

"Majesty, that soup'll not be done for another good twenty minutes," the cook called across the room.

"I'm afraid our guests have been rather demanding on the household staff," Susan said ruefully to Tumnus before turning back to the cook. "Push it back a course, then. We'll have the greens first, then the cheese. Bring out the soup when it's ready." She signaled to a man that Tumnus only now realized had been hovering off to the side and turned to deal with the next pressing issue. Tumnus was left standing bemusedly in her wake, feeling rather like he had just been run over by a carriage. The man cleared his throat loudly.

"If Mr. Tumnus would be so kind as to follow me?" the man said in Telmarine accents and bowed at the waist before turning to disappear into the press of busy servants.

* * *

Dinner was served in the Great Hall, promptly at nine, and proved, despite the turmoil below, to be an exquisite affair. Tumnus was sat a quarter of the way down from the head of the table, between a rather beautiful widow from the Lone Islands and a solemn, dignified scholar from Calormen. Lucy sat on Susan's right, across the table and up five seats from Tumnus. 

He looked at her rather closely, trying to determine if she was still upset, but she appeared to have put the incident at the river behind her. She was chatting quite animatedly with a young Tarkaan who had accompanied the Grand Vizier on his visit and her bright laughter carried down the table. Tumnus was glad to see her socializing with boys her own age. The scholar began speaking to Tumnus about some ancient texts he was translating but Tumnus was so lost in his thoughts he only managed to nod and murmur the occasional bland, encouraging comment.

He'd noticed her strange behaviour and had hoped it meant something other than what he thought it did, but with this kiss between them he feared she was heading towards heartbreak. She was very dear to him, but she was only a child. And a human, into the bargain. Which, he thought wryly, he certainly was not.

But it disturbed him, how he'd reacted to the kiss. For a moment he'd been tempted to turn the fleeting kiss into something more tangible. And afterward he'd held her without really meaning to and struggled through his confused emotions before he settled on one that was acceptable.

The official position, he'd decided, was one of gratitude. He was flattered that she would think of him in such a manner, but she must realize that such an attachment-- a passing infatuation, surely -- was entirely unacceptable given their differences in rank, species, and, not least importantly, age. He'd meant to tell her gently, but she'd never given him the chance, sensing his rejection and fleeing in a cloud of pubescent woe.

He recalled his own first heartbreak and how he'd been sure he would die of despair. He also recalled that he'd been stealing kisses from a wood nymph the very next week, with no thought of his former love. It had been a long time ago, but he was fairly sure he had made a complete recovery in a comparatively short period of time. He could only hope that Lucy would do the same.

_Aslan save us from adolescent angst_, he thought with a sigh, pushing his salmon around on his plate before laying aside his fork. An attentive footman came immediately for his plate and another served him the confection of iced fruit that was dessert. He was savoring the first spoonful when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked down in surprise at the well manicured, beringed hand and then up the delicate silk sleeves into the face of the lady on his right.

"He's moved on to the next defenseless victim," she said with a smile, nodding her head towards the scholar, who had turned to talk to a bespectacled Badger on his left. "I'm Lady Nerise of Avra. We were introduced this afternoon when we arrived, but with so many people in the party I'm sure you've no idea who's who," she said wryly.

"I-I'm sorry. Yes, there was rather a hubbub. I'm Tumnus." He was a little stunned by this beautiful woman with her cultured voice and stunning dress. She laughed delightedly at his introduction, removing her hand from his arm and raising her glass to him.

"Well, Sir Tumnus, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I look forward to deepening our association during my time here," she said with a sly smile.

"Em...yes," Tumnus began but was saved from having to think up a reply by Susan, who stood up and suggested they retire to the Tapestry Room for after-dinner entertainment.

"Will you escort me, Tumnus?" she asked coyly. Tumnus cleared his throat to cover his surprise before rising and offering his arm.

"Gladly, milady"

* * *

The interaction between Tumnus and the beautiful dark-haired woman he was now escorting to the Tapestry Room did not go unnoticed by Lucy. Although she had been rather determinedly not looking in Tumnus' direction all evening her attention had been drawn down the table by the woman's intolerably husky laugh. Lucy had seen her hand on Tumnus' arm and felt a surge of jealousy which was quite out of place, given his rejection of her in the garden. 

Lucy watched the woman and couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her hair wasn't really brown, but a sort of burnished coppery colour and she wore it in a complicated arrangement of braids and ribbon gathered onto the top of her head, a style that was favored in the Lone Islands. Her features were rather large for her face, Lucy thought, but seemed to balance each other out, and the effect was nice, if one liked that sort of striking look. She had full, red lips (probably rouged, Lucy thought), a rather distinctively Calormene nose, and large almond shaped eyes that were quite unexpectedly blue. Her features seemed to be those of a Calormene, but rather finer, and her skin was far too pale for her to be from that state. Her dress seemed to point to her origins in the Lone Islands. Rather perplexed, Lucy turned to the young man who was escorting her.

"I say, who is that woman in the blue dress?" she asked in as bored a tone as she could muster.

"Oh, that's Nerise of Avra. Her uncle rules the capitol city on Doorn. Yes, her mother was a Calormene, you know. She inherited some lands over there in some godforsaken desert." The young man frowned as he struggled to remember the details. "She was married to one of them, if I remember correctly. A Calormene. The Tisroc's nephew or some such. Yes. But of course, he was killed, wasn't he? Yes, on a sea voyage to Telmarine. Terrible tragedy."

"Yes, terrible," Lucy murmured appropriately. "But why is she here with the Calormene embassy? Did not she return to the Lone Islands when her husband died?" Her escort remembered no more, but as they had arrived at the Tapestry Room, he consulted some of his friends for more on the story.

"Well, she's the Tarkheena of his lands, ain't she?" said one rather plump fellow. "Her mother's people did some kind of favor for the Tisroc and he let her keep control of all her husband's lands, as well as those she had brought to the marriage. Dashed unusual for those Calormenes to give control of anything to a woman, but she's a dashed unusual woman, is Nerise." The talk turned to the current exchange rate between the Lone Islands and Calormen and Lucy was left to mull over what she had just learned.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took FOREVER. I just got a bad case of writer's lethargia. On the upside, I blocked out a massive outline for the rest of the story. On the downside, I have already strayed from the path I laid out for myself with this chapter. Oh well. Onward and upward! I hope you enjoy this chapter, featuring Adolescent!Lucy. And thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I would never have forced myself to write this if it weren't for you. firstmorningdew, your review was the straw that broke the camel of despair'sback and the reason I just sat in the lobby of this building for an hour and a half to finally finish this chapter. Bless you!

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**This Desperate Youth, Chapter 3**

The Grand Vizier's party stayed on at the castle for five weeks and showed no signs of leaving until suddenly one Saturday morning all of their things were packed and a long line of horses and carts and servants wended down the steep incline from Cair Paravel to the sea. A flurry of trumpets and song as accompanied the parade of nobles and a swathe of crushed flowers trailed behind.

Lucy stood with Susan on the dock, beneath an awning held by four retainers and tried not to sweat through her blue silk morning dress. She stole a glance at Susan, but her sister was beaming regally at the gathering crowd, every inch the High Queen of Narnia. Peter and Edmund stood a little to the side, conversing with the captain of the _Golden Wind_, the Grand Vizier's flag ship.

The harbor at the foot of Cair Paravel was large enough to hold several ships, but had only two docks, one of which was undergoing extensive repairs, and the other, at which the _Golden Wind_ was tied up. Two other ships were anchored beyond the _Wind_, almost at the mouth of the harbor, and several boats were rowing back and forth delivering passengers and last minute baggage. Lucy fanned herself, wishing for a breath of wind to stir the sultry morning air. Summer had not even truly begun and already the heat was stifling. Lucy eyed the never diminishing line of the nobility and their staff with dismay.

"I suppose there's a good reason we're doing this so early?" Lucy asked idly.

"The tide waits for no man," Edmund replied cheekily, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You look fantastic this morning, Lu. New dress?" Susan cast him a glare and he laughed, patting Lucy good naturedly on the back and taking up his position to her right. Each departing visitor paid their respects to their Royal Majesties before proceeding to board the ship. Lucy's face began to ache from smiling and her head was throbbing with the effort of remembering each of their names.

"Well, that's the last of them," Peter said with relief as a particularly oily courtier joined the last group and was rowed out to his ship.

"I suppose they'll--what is it? shove off? weigh anchor?-- now," Lucy said with a sort of grim satisfaction, thinking of a particular Tarkheena she was not going to miss in the slightest.

"Not yet, your Highness," the captain said. "We're waiting on the Minister of International Trade."

"How dreadfully boring," Lucy said with disdain. "And how awful that we must stand around in this heat, waiting for some self-important little bureaucrat." Edmund laughed and mussed her hair.

"Well, we shan't have to wait long. Here comes your bureaucrat now." Lucy patted her curls back into place and squinted up along the long avenue. Her hand paused in mid pat and her eyes widened.

"It can't be Tumnus!" she gasped, but the little figure steadily growing bigger was unmistakably faunish and wearing a splendidly embroidered scarf of the type Tumnus had taken to wearing this last month. Lucy whirled towards her siblings, fists clenched at her sides.

"Minister of International Trade?" she screeched. "Tumnus!" She looked from Peter to Susan in disbelief. Edmund was bent nearly in two with laughter. Lucy shrieked with irritation.

"I'm sorry, Lu," Edmund wheezed, "but if you could see your face..." He trailed off into a series of slow wheezes, clutching his sides. By this time Tumnus had trotted up to their small party on the dock, smiling apologetically.

"Hello, Queen Susan, Queen Lucy, Your Majesties. Am I the last one, then? Yes, well, I'd better get on board, hadn't I?" Susan smiled indulgently and lent forward to kiss his cheeks.

"Go with Aslan, Minister Tumnus," she said formally and stepped back to let her brothers shake his hands and offer similar sentiments. Lucy stood silently to the side, biting her tongue to keep from shouting. Of them all, only Tumnus sensed the approaching storm. Finally he turned toward her and offered a false-bright smile. She bent her head to hide her furious tears and worked her fingers in the folds of her silk skirt.

"You're leaving, then, Tumnus?" she asked in a high, tight voice, hardly daring to spare him a glance. He stared at her and could find no words to bring them out of this moment of intense accusation. The silence stretched out for a few heartbeats. "Obviously," she said and looked at him. Her eyes were hard and empty and Tumnus wondered suddenly how the girl he knew had been transformed into this cold, formidable woman.

"Slipping out like a thief in the night. Going to test the tropical waters? Smell the desert rose?" she scoffed.

"Lucy!" Susan said in shock.

"You know, Tumnus, when you mix the desert and the sea you don't get anything but a pile of mud, no matter how well connected. No matter what's outside, it's all mud underneath!" Somehow Lucy had gotten quite close to Tumnus and she could see him flinch as she flung each word at him.

"That's quite enough, Lu," Peter said firmly, taking her by the arm. Tumnus' mouth had dropped open slightly and his rosy face had gone stark white. Lucy gasped in a short breath, staring at him.

"I hope you don't get sand in your fur," she said viciously. She jerked her arm out of Peter's grasp and rushed past Tumnus up the road to the palace. The others stood for a moment in stunned silence on the dock, the captain blinking rapidly in confusion, Susan clutching Edmund's arm for support, Edmund gaping at Tumnus, Tumnus with his face averted and eyes downcast, and Peter looking up the road after Lucy, who had disappeared over a hill.

The captain cleared his throat and everyone seemed to spring suddenly to life. Vague, shocked apologies were made and Tumnus was hurried onto the _Golden Wind_. The last of the cargo was lashed to the deck and the captain bowed to Peter, shook Edmund's hand heartily, and hurried up the gangplank. In moments, the anchor was weighed and the ship cast off, leaping to follow it's brethren out of the harbor.

Tumnus was leaning against the railing, looking out at the slowly passing headland when he spotted Lucy. She said nothing, but he heard her as clearly as if she had shouted his name. A wordless calling that pulled him around until he was facing her, standing on the exposed beams of the dock. Her blue dress was whipping in the rising wind and her hair had pulled free of its ribbons to sweep in the wind, alternately obscuring and revealing the pale oval of a face.

The ship swept closer and they locked eyes across the expanse of water. He saw the tracks of tears glistening down her cheeks and she mouthed something at him. The motions of her lips were unclear but he read the words as if he'd seen them written.

_I didn't mean it_. He closed his eyes briefly and breathed in the rising wind. When he looked at her she was farther away but he knew she would hear him.

"I know," he whispered. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia. All characters, places, and objects therein belong to CS Lewis and his representatives. This story is purely for non-profit, entertainment purposes.

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**This Desperate Youth, Chapter 4**

July arrived in the midst of a cloud of oppressive heat and sudden, violent storms that seemed to reflect the turbulent atmosphere at the palace. Lucy's 15th birthday was but a few days distant and the preparations were already in full swing, somewhat hampered by Lucy's abject refusal to participate. Under normal circumstances Susan would have felt compelled to prod her into compliance, but they'd all been walking on eggshells around Lucy since the Grand Vizier's departure.

Susan was once again in the state of frenzy from which she worked best, furiously ordering gowns, reupholstering ballrooms, planning menus, drawing up seating charts, and assigning chambers to guests. Edmund and Peter made themselves scarce during this period, often finding themselves ducking around corners and behind bits of tapestry when Susan and her entourage swept by. More often they simply snuck out into the forest or had a drink in the library to rule out any chance encounters.

They were in the midst of the latter, only hours before the Birthday Banquet, when the heavy library doors swung open, admitting Susan, who slammed them shut and leaned against them. Edmund shared a look with Peter then turned to the sideboard to pour Susan a drink. Peter rose and escorted his rather frazzled sister to a chair. After taking a sip of her drink she turned haunted eyes on her brothers.

"She won't come down," she said hollowly.

"Who?" Edmund asked, furrowing his brow.

"Oh, don't be thick, Ed," Susan said sharply. "Lucy. Lucy refuses to come to her own banquet." She breathed out a sigh and brushed her hair back from her forehead. Peter and Edmund shared helpless looks and Susan looked as if she might cry.

"I knew something was wrong. She's been moping around these last two months, but she hasn't been out of her rooms in a week," Susan said mournfully.

"Do you...do you think it's something to do with Tumnus?" Edmund asked hesitantly.

"Of course it's to do with Tumnus," she said scathingly. "She swore she never wanted to see him again, but she's put out that he's held up in Calormen when she'd expected him here for her birthday, only her pride will never let her admit it." Susan stood abruptly and began to pace, muttering to herself.

"I had a new gown made up all in amethyst for her, with ribbons and lace, and new slippers with those jeweled buckles she wanted so much last month..." Susan looked from Edmund to Peter with a lost expression on her face. "I just don't know what else to do," she moaned, collapsing on a couch. The tears that had been threatening welled up in her eyes and began to fall in earnest.

"There, there, Susan," Peter said, patting her awkwardly on the back. He looked at Edmund and made a "do something" gesture with his other hand. Edmund ran a hand through his hair and knelt in front of her.

"Look," he said finally. "Why don't you just finish getting ready and if she hasn't come down by the time the banquet starts we'll tell them she's...got a cold."

"A cold?" Peter mouthed incredulously from behind Susan.

"A cold?" Susan sniffed hesitantly, biting her lips. "Y-yes. I suppose...it's a bit weak, but if we call a doctor the guests might at least pretend to be convinced..."

"She might come down," Peter suggested weakly.

"Yes," Edmund agreed quickly but Susan only twisted her mouth into a grimace and shook her head.

* * *

Lucy stared into the mirror, dangling her legs over the edge of her high bed. She was sulking, if anyone cared to notice, and when one was sulking one did not attend banquets, even birthday banquets, even when one had a new dress. She bit her bottom lip and glanced at the beautiful gown her maid had laid out on the bed. Right before she had overturned the washstand and caused the young maid to flee the room in her vehement declarations against attendance.

Lucy glumly examined her reflection, noting with increasing despondence the plain brown eyes, dark, wavy hair and her non-entity of a nose. She was just so inescapably, boringly, pretty, she thought. Susan and Peter were both so handsome and regal, and Edmund still had that delicate, boyish beauty that reminded them all of their mother, but she... she was simply unremarkable.

She was roused from her vat of self pity by a sharp knock at her door. With a sigh Lucy threw herself backwards onto her bed and crossed her arms.

"I already told you, I'm not coming down." She was startled by the sound of the door being kicked open. Sitting up sharply she stared open mouthed as her lady's maid swept into the room, arms draped with cloths and carrying a tray laden with cups and platters. She threw a look in Lucy's direction before depositing her burden on the wide dresser and heading into the closet.

"Zelphie? What...I said, I'm not coming--" Lucy began confusedly. The only reply was a scraping sound from the closet. Lucy pulled her legs beneath her and grasped one of the bedosts.

"Zelphie?" she called again. "What are you doing?" Zelphie inched into view, straining to heave a heavy porcelain tub into the room. Lucy once again found her mouth gaping open as the tiny woman pulled the tub before the fireplace and pulled the bell for hot water. She turned around, hands on her hips and surveyed the room with pursed lips.

"You, get in da tub," she said to Lucy, then, "What you waiting for?" towards the still-open door. Lucy turned to see two nervous maids curtsey into the room, arms full of boxes and containers. The two girls scurried across the room to the vanity and began unloading the boxes which turned out to contain various cosmetics, oils, and other beauty implements. Lucy's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"No...wait a moment. I thought I told you I'm not-"

"And I told you. Get. In. Da. Tub. And don't ya be givin' me no mouth. I got a lot a work to get you ready fer da party." Lucy narrowed her eyes and considered her options. She might be able to make a run for it and hide out in the palace until it was too late...

Zelphie was berating one of the maids and overseeing the water that had just arrived for the bath. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Lucy dived for the door.

* * *

Lucy sat at the head of the table, in honor of her birthday. She twinkled and charmed and smiled at everyone around her until the ache in her face almost rivalled her burning scalp and throbbing hip. She had been halfway to the door before Zelphie had even realized what was going on.

"No you don't!" she had cried, springing after Lucy. Lucy had reached the doorway and was swinging around the corner when she was suddenly jerked backwards by the hair. Screaming and thrashing, she did her best to avoid being dragged across the floor to the tub. Ultimately, she only succeeded in banging her hip on the rim of the tub.

She was then stripped, scrubbed, soaped, rinsed, brushed and dried in record time. Zelphie forced her into a chair and proceeded to work her magic and when Susan knocked on her door fourty five minutes later Lucy was (grudgingly) ready to head downstairs. Susan had actually gotten teary and kept hugging Zelphie and thanking her effusively, calling her "a miracle worker" and "a true artist," both of which Lucy rather resented.

And so it was she found herself being pulled onto the dance floor by Peter to open the dancing. The orchestra sprang up and Peter gave Lucy a courtly bow before sweeping her into the steps of the dance. Susan swept by on the arm of a young Calormene, beaming at Lucy as she passed. Lucy ground her teeth and simultaneously mashed Peter's foot.

"Oh! I'm sorry Peter!" she said, instantly contrite. "My mind was wandering." Peter smiled graciously and carried on dancing with his youngest sister, ignoring the throbbing of his left foot. As the song ended, Lucy found a nervous young man waiting to ask for the next dance, and another after that so that she was never forced to sit out a single dance.

When she finally retired to the edge of the room to catch her breath she found that Susan had been wanting a word with her.

"I've been wanting a word with you," Susan said, guiding her to a pair of chairs hidden behind a column and a large potted plant. Susan grasped Lucy's hands in her own and looked into her eyes searchingly.

"I've noticed you've not been entirely happy these last few months," she began tentatively. "and I couldn't help but feel that part of that is due to the lack of people your own age." Susan waved away Lucy's protest before it was uttered. "I don't mean Talking Animals or..." she hesitated for a moment, "or _fauns_, Lucy. I mean _humans_, human girls to gossip with and dress with and young men to..."she trailed off staring down at their hands.

Lucy heard the sound of the small orchestra tuning and craned her head to see them. Edmund had mentioned earlier that a centaur famous for her beautiful voice was to perform an exhibition sometime that evening and Lucy sighed, wondering if she would be forced to spend the rest of the night trapped behind a giant palm tree, holding her sister's hand whilst everyone else enjoyed the concert.

"Lucy," Susan finally said. "I thought you might like a change of scenery."

"Mmm," Lucy replied, her attention firmly on that corner of the musicians' platform visible to her. She was sure that whatever sisterly advice Susan felt inclined to impart could not be more interesting than the spectacle about to take place.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery," Susan repeated more firmly, "so I've arranged for you to visit the court at Galma!" Lucy blinked and shook her head.

"I'm sorry?" she asked in disbelief. Susan beamed and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh Lucy, I knew it was just the thing!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Lucy's shoulders. As the first deep notes of the centaur's song rolled over the room, Lucy began to think that she might have been better served listening to Susan after all.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out. I went through a severe bout of near-to-finals depression that I've only just come out of. Just in time for school to get back in. This was a tough chapter for me to write for some reason, probably because it was mostly filler with a dollop of plot thrown in at the end. Everyone felt terribly out of character whilst I was writing, and the feeling persists even now. But. I am tired of this chapter and so I'm posting it with the sincere hope of never bothering with it again.  
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed up to this point, it was reading those over and over that finally got me motivated to finish this chapter. 


	5. Chapter 5

I would apologize for the long wait. But I think it's been like 3 years since I've even touched this and those apologies would be meaningless when compared with that vast expanse of time. Please enjoy this installment. Please add your prayers for completion of this story to my own.

Standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Narnia and related concepts. No profit is being made. All errors are my own.

* * *

Lucy leant into the spray off the bow of the _NightSkimmer_ and smiled. All her ladies were down below in their cabins, victim of the choppy seas they had encountered the day before. Lucy remained at the railing as the crew went about their business behind her. Lost in her thoughts, she failed to hear the captain clearing his throat behind her.

"Er, Your Majesty," he said. "We'll be arriving in Narrowhaven just at nightfall, so if your ladies'll be wishing ta tidy themselves you'll have about three hours afore we tie up at the docks."

"Fair winds, Captain?" Lucy said sardonically. She sighed. "I'll tell them. They'll have to get out into the air or they'll smell of sick when we arrive. Any chance of a bath?"

"Not unless they fancy cold saltwater," he replied dryly. With a long suffering sigh, Lucy turned from the railing and moved skillfully across the rolling deck of the ship and went below.

Her "ladies" had been hastily assembled by Susan from the few suitable families in Narnia. Lucy had argued against there being any need for attendants at all, but Susan applied to Peter, who agreed that it would be quite impossible to travel alone. It was all about keeping up appearances, after all, and forging useful connections with the other young leaders and, Susan ventured to add, having fun. Which was how Lucy found herself accompanied by four girls roughly her own age, none of whom she had met above three times in all their lives.

The stench of vomit and sweat wafted up the stairs and Lucy wrinkled her nose, trying not to gag. She kicked open the door to the cramped room her four ladies in waiting shared. The sight that met her eyes would have been comical if not for the smell.

"Your Majesty!" croaked a thin, dark-haired girl named Drumelsda. A pale, red headed girl named Lavender, one of the twin daughters of the Minister for Forestry and Agriculture pulled herself into a standing position from the low bunk and managed a shaky curtsy. Her twin stood up quickly, banging her head on the low hanging lantern. The final person in the room took no notice of Lucy's entrance, but continued emptying her stomach into the porcelain chamberpot.

"We'll be at Narrowhaven in a few hours. Best get yourselves as neat as you can before we get there. No tub, I'm afraid, so we'll have to wait until we arrive for a bath." Drumelsda dropped a little curtsy and began to gather up the things scattered around the little room. Lucy backed out of the door. Behind her she could hear Drumelsda chivying the others into action.

"Get up, Besela. You can't have anything left in there, anyway. Viola, stop moping about and let's get this all packed away. The sooner we get it done the sooner we can get off this wretched boat." This last was met with a renewed bout of wretching from the miserable Besela. Lucy grimaced and entered her own cabin to pack.

* * *

Hours later, the delegation from the court of Doorn met the five women at the dock. Besela and Lavender looked rather pale and drawn and smelled heavily of the rose water they had washed with to cover the smell of sick. Viola was nursing a large bruise on her forehead, although she had combed her hair to cover it as best she could. Drumelsda and Lucy looked almost normal, but for the large shadows under Drumelsda's eyes and the fact that Lucy's hair was heavy with salt beneath the delicate lace cap she wore.

"Welcome, Queen Lucy," said a kindly lady, taking in their appearance and smiling sympathetically. "I expect you and your ladies would like a bath and a warm bed." The five girls looked at her with thankful eyes and faint, flickering smiles.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Lady-"

"Sedgeton," the woman supplied helpfully.

"Lady Sedgeton, of course. We are quite worn out from our journey and would enjoy a brief respite before reentering court life," Lucy's smile was fatigued but genuinely grateful as a footman helped her into a carriage and they set off for the palace.

The ride was fairly silent; Lady Sedgeton seemed to understand the fatigue behind their silence and did not press them for conversation. Fifteen minutes later they rolled into a small courtyard and were ushered quickly through a small entrance hall and into a long, low room full of screens and baskets of towelling.

"Undress," Lady Sedgeton instructed them. "And a maid will show you through to the bathing chamber, there." She indicated a door at the far end of the room then swept back out the way they had come, leaving the five girls standing dazed in the middle of the room.

"Bath?" Viola asked faintly. As if her voice broke some spell, they all began to pull their hair from its pins and help each other out of their dresses. A maid came in to help loosen their laces and carry a basket of towelling into the bathing chamber. The girls raced after her and plunged into the steaming pool of water set in the floor of the vast room.

They took no notice of how the water was constantly clear, of the mere idea of such vast quantities of water, but instead set about scrubbing their hair and bodies with handfuls of scented soaps, sloughing off the salt that three weeks at sea had ingrained into their cells. Time enough later to marvel at the technology, but now the presence of the water melting the aches from their bones was enough for them all.

Half an hour's time found Lucy comfortably ensconced before a fire, drowsing over a letter she had been attempting to write to Edmund. Several crumpled, torn sheets of paper lay strewn about the ground at her feet. Most began with "Tumnus" or "Dear Mr. Tumnus" or "My Dearest Tumnus" and bore many scratchings out. The letter in her lap bore far fewer scratchings out and was almost entirely free of desperate declarations of love.

_Dear Edmund,_

_ How trying have been these last weeks onboard! Besela, Viola, even sturdy Lavender all succumbed to sea sickness. Drumelsda seems to have been the least affected, but as such - and in what (I am discovering) is her usual manner- assigned herself as nurse to the others._

_ I have not yet been on land three hours, yet already I feel as if the sea air is washing away the malaise that had begun to shroud me in Caer Paravel. Doorn is a beautiful island, though I have only yet seen it through the window of a carriage. Lady Sedgeton-a friend of Susan's, I believe-was most kind in welcoming us, but I have not yet seen my host. It seems the old duke is indisposed, though I have not been able to glean any news of what ails him from the maids. _

_ (several lines were marked out and crossed through here)_

_ I hope all is well at home. Although I am enjoying my adventure, I cannot help but feel some homesickness. Have you heard anything about the state of the kingdom? How are the forests? And what of matters of Foreign policy? How is Tumnus (crossed out) How is the new minister taking to his job? I only ask out of_

Lucy chewed the end of her quill, slowly, muttering to herself.

"...ask out of curiosity. -idle-curiosity. No..." In the end she scratched through most of the last paragraph and ended the letter with "My heart's dearest wishes for peace and happiness," which she thought, in retrospect, might be a tad overdone.

Setting the letter to Edmund aside, she began a new page with no salutation.

_ I miss you. I feel the seas between us and wish that Aslan would dry them up so I could come to you and see your face. I would be deaf through all my life hereafter if I might hear your voice for just an hour._

_ What I mean is, I love you_.

And she signed it "Your Lucy."

Before she could cross out this letter too, or throw it aside, there was a sharp knock on the door and a plump lady's maid came in, laying out clothes for the night's coming gala.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Lucy said hesitantly, laying the letter on a paper strewn table and gesturing to the scraps of paper surrounding the fire. The maid looked at Lucy with an expression of surprise.

"I'm a maid, milady - Your Majesty. 'Tis no trouble," she said as she laid out a last, pale stocking. "Only, if you don't mind my saying so, we're all very happy to have Your Majesty here. All of us belowstairs, I mean." The little maid turned down the linens and helped Lucy up the steps into bed, chattering all the while. "It's all so exciting! Queens and ladies and all! And I hope you'll enjoy our little festival, Majesty. It's not so very grand as you're used to but it does for us."

Lucy smiled. "I'm sure it will do quite well for me, too. Thank you all for your kind wishes."

"I'll wake you when your tray's sent up, Majesty. Is there anything else?" The warmth of the bed and the softness of the sheets were intoxicating and Lucy felt the heavy hand of sleep pushing her lids lower and lower.

"A letter," she muttered, gesturing toward the small table near the fire. "Could you post the letter, there, to my brother, Edmund? I've a seal but it's not been unpacked yet..."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the maid said. Curtseying again, she scooped up the sheets of paper from the table and left the room, silently closing the door behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

This is for _viennacantabile_ because I was already making up excuses not to continue when I saw your review. Bless you. I'm trying hard to finish this thing but it's been a struggle.

Also, sorry for what is mostly a filler chapter. The story was supposed to progress more quickly from the last part, but then it turned out that important groundwork was still to be laid. Alas.

Look for a faster advancement through Lucy's time abroad next chapter.

Standard Disclaimers: I own nothing, I make no money. All mistakes are my own.

* * *

Months passed quickly in the pleasant idleness of the court at Narrowhaven. The island of Doorn was a busy port that lay in the middle of a major shipping lane and there was no lack of girls near to Lucy's age. Of the ladies she had brought with her only Drumelsda proved to have a head on her shoulders, the others being rather more concerned with the most fashionable cut of dress and who was the handsomest boy at court. She had made also a close friend of Lady Clarine, granddaughter and ward of the current Governor of Doorn, and the three girls where often as not in each other's company.

The city of Narrowhaven was preparing for its annual winter festival, signifying the end of the shipping season and celebrating the safe return or remembering the loss of those sailors that called her home. Talk at the palace was primarily concerned with the upcoming ball and every dressmaker within twenty miles was engaged to outfit the ladies and gentlemen of the court. Servants carried bits of cloth and lace back and forth between the palace and the dress-, shoe-, and mask-makers to ensure a coordinated costume for the lords and ladies of the court.

For days, rumor had circulated that in the heart of the city there was a mask shop of singular quality and originality. It was the dearest wish of every fashionable lady and gentleman to find this shop and secure for herself (or himself) one of its illustrious masks. So it was that Lucy and the Ladies Clarine and Drumelsda ventured forth into the city two days before the festival, slipping away suddenly in the midst of a lawn party to avoid notice and unwanted company.

Three hours later, lost in a maze of streets, weary and footsore, the girls at last stumbled upon a run-down, gray sort of establishment. They would not have known it for the fabled mask shop were it not for an equally gray, wizened woman sitting on the steps, surrounded by beads and feathers and ribbons. She fumbled in a tray next to her and her gnarled fingers searched among the varicolored feathers; Lucy saw suddenly that she was blind.

"Come for a mask, your Majesty?" the old woman croaked. She had before her an almost bare maskform, half-covered in ivory feathers. As they stood, dumbfounded, her deceptively crippled fingers nimbly added three feathers to the mask's total. Lucy shook off her surprise and crouched down (quite unladylike) beside the woman, peering into her face.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked, searching the woman's eyes for confirmation of her blindness. "You cannot see?"

The mask was nearly half-again covered with feathers by this time. The old woman's hands stilled over the tray of feathers and her leathery face creased in a grin.

"My eyes are blind, Majesty, but I do see much." A piece of deep purple ribbon was now added to the mask. "I see that you three are in search of the final piece of your costumes." The woman began to string beads on ribbon.

"Masks for your ladies are there, in the shop window." Drumelsda and Clarine shared excited looks and fairly raced into the shop. Lucy could hear their exclamations of delight.

"And yours, Lucy Pevensie." She held out the half-finished mask to Lucy, who was stricken and pale at the mention of her almost forgotten surname. Lucy reached out a trembling hand to the mask. The old woman pulled it away at the last moment, into her lap, and sewed the string of beads by one end to the side of the mask.

"Not done yet, no." She turned her blind face up to the sun as Drumelsda and Clarine clattered out of the shop, clutching their masks in boxes. "Your's will find you tomorrow night, or the next." Still sewing, she cackled and shook her head. "You'll get what you want, yes. Tomorrow night, or the next."

"Come away, Queen Lucy," said Drumelsda. "We will send a man for your mask."

"Only think how splendid we shall all look!" Clarine squealed. Then, remembering herself, she said, more sedately, "As befitting a queen and her ladies." Then a smile broke through her somber facade and her infectious laughter spread to the others and, laughing, they went up the street, weariness forgotten. Only Lucy looked back, haunted still by the strange encounter, but the street was empty and there was no sign of the old woman.

* * *

By the day of the festival, Lucy still had not received her mask. A servant, sent to fetch the mask from the shop, returned empty handed, reporting that there was no mask shop in that quarter, nor had not been in living memory. Drumelsda had placed an order for a replacement immediately but when it arrived it looked sad and plain beside the two masks from the old woman's shop.

"Well," said Lucy as the girls reclined about her room in their dressing gowns, "it will have to do." She held the mask - quite ornate in its own right - before her face and looked out at her reflection through the rounded eye holes.

"Certainly no one will expect me to be the queen, not in the company of two such spectacular masks as your own." Clarine and Drumelsda exchanged a worried look.

"Lucy," Clarine began, but Lucy interrupted.

"Perhaps it is the best disguise of all!" she said gaily, putting the mask aside. But her smile did not reach her eyes and her forced tone did not fool her friends.

Shortly after, the girls parted, each to her own room, to prepare for the festival. Lucy herself was bathed, brushed, coiffed, and being buttoned into her gown when Clarine and Drumelsda burst through her door.

"It has come!" Clarine said breathlessly, holding out a box to Lucy. Lucy took it and collapsed in a chair, opening it hurriedly.

"A chambermaid said she found an old woman wandering the upper halls and when she asked who and what the old woman wanted, why, the old lady thrust the box at her, telling her it was for you and then-" Drumelsda paused to take a breath.

"She _disappeared_!" Clarine was nearly beside herself. "The servants all think she was a witch!" Indeed, Lucy's maid was inching nearer, trying to see into the box over the ladies' shoulders. Drumelsda noticed her suddenly and turned about with studied indifference.

"Thank you. You may go. I will attend Queen Lucy now." Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, the maid bobbed a curtsy and was gone.

Lucy lifted the mask from its wrapping paper. It was indeed the mask the old woman had been working on. Lucy held it to her face and Drumelsda tied the strings behind her head.

Covered mostly in bone white feathers, it was trimmed in deep purple lace and ribbon. Strings of strange, smooth beads hung down the sides, framing Lucy's face and mingling with her hair. Tufts of feathers skimmed her cheekbones and then swept back up like white wings to either side of her head. The eyeholes were slitted and slanted upwards and surrounded by strange curling designs painted or etched into the maskform itself. The longer she stared, the more detail she found in the mask - three small stars outlined in black on a bead, a fine lining of gold on the edges of the feathers, a pattern of waves painted at the bottom edge of the mask - until she began to believe that it must have taken magic to finish the mask in only two days.

"It's beautiful," whispered Clarine, almost reverent. The girls stared at Lucy silently and Lucy stared at her own reflection. She looked mysterious and grown up, with her hair piled in curls at the back of her head and her eyes glowing darkly from behind the mask.

A bell began to toll the hour and all three of them shook as if awakening from a spell.

"It's eight!" Clarine exclaimed, leaping to her feet. There was a flurry of laces and scarves and gloves and shortly they left Lucy's chamber, elegant and polished, and joined the steady stream of foot traffic going out from the palace into the bright lights and music of Narrowhaven's winter festival.


End file.
